


The Feeling's Mutual

by AoKise DaiKi (DigimonDestined)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feat. Free! cast, Feat. Sousuke!, M/M, Prince!Aomine, Prince!Kise, Princess!Momoi, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, aokise - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-11 13:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigimonDestined/pseuds/AoKise%20DaiKi
Summary: They say hatred is easy, empathy hard. Prince Daiki Aomine of Touou would dispute.Daiki serves his kingdom, proud and loyal, brave and strong, in every sense there is of these terms, and is unmatched. Or so he believes. Prince Kise Ryouta, second to the throne of Kaijo, would beg to differ.Empathy is not necessary when you already know you are right, Daiki and Ryouta both each think. There are reasons the other and their kingdom is disliked; those reasons are simple and undeniable.At the end of the day, if there's one thing they can agree on, it's their feelings."I hate you.""Well the feeling's mutual."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Kingdom AU + drama (lots) + romance (yeet) + adventure (yay) :)
> 
> Will edit proper summary + tags + title like months from now. Thank you to regular readers and great friends, hope you enjoy what I hope will turn out as great as I imagined it could be :)

What hooks Daiki’s interest is not the yelling, but the audio physicality of the altercation. The sound of fist on flesh well enough is everything but new, and soon enough, his senses lead him to the scene.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” Daiki makes his drawl thick, prolonged— and, _amused._ “What do we have here?”

There are seven soldiers— a glance gives him the silver and copper insignias inscribed over each of the breast pockets of their black and red uniforms. They should be an unnecessary force in contrast to their single captive, who is also being made to kneel, with one of the soldiers pinning his arms behind him. Said prisoner is blond, has a knee on the ground and his head lowered the same way. The obvious victim.

Daiki knows this is the farthest from the truth. At his words, the prisoner lifts his head and the smirk his lips are pulled into against the red bruise blooming under his eye says as much.

Daiki looks at the other men- supposedly, _his_. They refuse to look at him, using their kneeling as an excuse to stare at the dirt. The solider holding the prisoner down glares down at the back of his prisoner’s head, but the leader of this group is the lanky 2nd class officer closest to him. He looks reserved but unashamed, not rebelliously defiant. The royal’s curiosity is piqued but he holds his tongue.

But the silence from the soldiers makes him switch his scrutiny over to the prisoner. Each heartbeat of observation gives him more – more information, more _interest_.

The prisoner’s physical gift is evident, a balanced composition in lean figure and trained muscle. His hair is roughly cut off at his neck, but doesn’t extend over his ear to hide the metal stud catching the sunlight. A bold choice for someone of such high political rank, Daiki makes note of. And when he’d chosen to ground his gaze, his bangs worked just enough to hide his expression, whereas right now, electric gold eyes gleam at him. _Challenging_ _him_ \- Prince Daiki Aomine, second to the throne. Kise doesn’t care; his smirk widens and he sweetly says, “You can kiss my ass, Daiki-chan.”

Although the mock honorific is wrenched out of his voice because the solider locking his arms cuffs him over the side of the head violently, Daiki laughs a little, rich and amused. Diplomatically, he says, “Touou men, you are thanked for your service, as always. Please, ignore our guest and his terrible manners and allow me to escort him-” he pauses. “Where is our friend here off to?”

“Your Highness,” The leader of the group speaks. He and his men rise at Daiki’s requirement. “We’d rather not trouble you, the prisoner is our duty, assigned by General Wakamatsu–”

Daiki is not a fan of humiliation, receiving or granting it, but his curiosity drives him to ask, “And the fight?”

The officer’s ears turn red and his chin lowers a degree. But rather than look shamed, he seems torn between apologetic and acceptive of any fate his superior decides fit. “I humbly apologize, Your Highness. I lost control of my personal emotions in the face of duty. It will not happen again.”

“The fight _?”_  Daiki prompts without hesitation.

The other dips his head. “A personal grudge. The Kaijian killed my brother in last year’s east skirmish. He glances behind him. Daiki  _knows_ far before he continues, “The rest of the wing...”

“South border, against Yosen, two seasons ago. My father.”

“Odiba Township ambush. Three years. My mother. Sisters. Wife.”

“I understand,” Daiki says, slowly. Quiet. And he does. “As a prince, I thank you once again for your service. I understand your sorrow and grief…although I know it is not worthy of the comfort you deserve, I would like to offer you the use of some of my northern estate in the Adachi region. Income will also default to you. Please speak with my sister, Princess Satsuki. I will have the order verified.”

The soldiers are stunned grandly and in hindsight, Daiki supposes a prince is not supposed to act as he does but he can’t help it; they are too relatable. He is their ruler; they are _his men._ Gently, he continues, Officer…?”

As dazed as the leader seems to be, he still salutes in address properly. “Second Class, Silver General of the River Flight, Tokitsu Wing, Sousuke Yamazaki.”

To the officer’s further surprise, Daiki steps in close, clasping the other’s shoulder. “Perhaps I’ll see you again in the future. You’re a good officer.” His voice lowers. “I will reassign your wing to another duty shortly.”

Sousuke’s eyes flash with surprise but he puts his head down in respect once more. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Right on time, Kise calls, “Hey, Daiki-chan,” having risen casually. “Hurry the fuck up.”

Daiki raises a hand and the solider behind him finally moves away.

“I’ll take you myself. Stop flirting with your subordinates.” Kise tosses his head so his bangs fly back.

With a nod and a parting, “Take care, Tokitsu Wing.” Daiki turns and follows the other. They walk side by side, pace for pace, but mere minutes pass before Kise asks casually, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run, unbound like this?”

“Run? Why would you run- you’re our _guest_.”

“I’ll steal a sword. And then I’ll gut you. And then everyone else standing in my way between me and Yukio.”

“Really.”

“Just wait.” Kise snaps, shooting like a firecracker.

Daiki bites back a snicker and conversationally changes the topic to, “You know the way well. I assume you’ve been taken to the diplomatic meetings between our kingdoms and then back to the prison cells they’re holding you in regularly.”

“Heh, Daiki-chan interested in where I’m sleeping?” Kise smirks at him. “I suppose bedding your sluts away from your own room is always more convenient.”

Daiki’s snicker sneaks out. “You’re still a huge idiot, huh, Kise. Aren’t I supposed to be the ‘escort’?”

The other singsongs, “Too bad I’d never sink so low as to touch a Touou-”

In a swift single movement, Daiki sidesteps and pivots, and his swing takes him leering into the other's face. Kise’s hands come up between their chests defensively but they merely jostles Daiki when he leans in closer, “I’d have you begging for me. Can you imagine? Because I can.” He breathes. He can see himself breaking Kise. Breaking Kaijo’s spirit.

Kise’s expression closes off. At once, all the swagger is gone and there is nothing but cold. And he is instantly bringing his knee up, using his hands to hold the other in place. Daiki's own leg jerks up in reaction to block and then they are fighting.

“Where’s your sword?” Kise calls, on his toes, counting on his agility to match the other’s. “I could’ve used it to split your head open—”

“—and look for a lack of brains, yeah?” Daiki ducks in, swinging fast. He catches the corner of Kise’s jaw and the other reels back. “Your wit’s slowed down too, huh? You’re getting too predictable.”

“How’s this for predictable.” And then Kise is on the offensive, raining a complex sequence of blows Daiki has used in tournament fights to finish them rather than continue the show. Before everything went to hell, that is.

 _But a copy’s just a copy._  Daiki's eyes narrow. It can never be anything more than that.

It takes a full minute, but Daiki finally manages to hook his foot around Kise’s ankle and throws his weight into his shoulder. The blond hits the floor and Daiki is straddling him, pinning his wrists apart. Their eyes are both alight, Kise in fury, Daiki in adrenaline.

When he can catch his breath, Daiki concludes, “Regular routine. So, they were beating you each time.” To himself, he thinks, _you’re still proud. They were getting away with it every time, hitting you where others wouldn’t know, because you’d never let them._

The bruise on Kise’s face has darkened, just like his expression. “Get the fuck off me.”

For some reason, Daiki does just that. Kise stands, and then they are walking the rest of the way there. Kise’s obvious rage is palpable, but Daiki’s triumph is a fine opponent. At the building, Satsuki is waiting and her expression changes to relief at the sight of them, but then drives into shock.

“Dai-chan!”

There is perspiration on his face and dirt sticking to his skin but all he mumbles into her ear is, “I’ll tell you later.” Then he raises his voice to her guard and servants. “Bathe Prince Kise carefully and attend to any and all wounds. Tomorrow, a new wing will be escorting him there and back. I will send message of said wing later in the day.”

The orders are taken with little bows. Daiki turns to Satsuki but Kise smoothly glides forwards, and though his gaze is still cast across to the stone arch of the building entrance, his feet stop moving so Daiki can just hear Kise quietly say,

“I hate you.”

The words are delivered with perfect control, bordering apathetic, if not for the slight steel edge of unapologetic contempt. Satsuki's servants who'd been approaching him slow, uncertainty and fear prominent in their expressions, debating between disobeying the order of a royal and having their own lives place in mortal danger. Now, Kise turns his chin to look at Daiki as if to say,  _I mean it. With everything I am, and what I stand for._

Daiki gazes back coolly. His own blood is viscous, cold, slow, and vicious in his veins, he is calm, and his voice is steady, promising, “The feeling’s mutual, Kise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryouta's got a couple dozen of colorful words he can think to call Aomine; fortunately, he'll forget about it after he and Yukio get to talk.
> 
> And then Satsuki comes in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sgjgskj cultural inaccuracies because lazy also I got caught between Asian history and typical European Middle Ages history sjdgkgs  
> ANYWAYS ENJOY. THANK YOU TO ALL THE FABULOUS READERS; PARTICULARLY THE ONES WHO LEFT SUCH SWEET COMMENTS, THIS IS FOR Y'ALL <3  
> Lots of cursing cause welp y'know
> 
>  
> 
> (Aren't y'all proud I actually finished a second chapter rather than going off and making a new WIP? :P)

Even if Daiki's sister’s servants don’t deserve it, Ryouta’s boiling blood has him keeping his words cold and tone sharp until he's completely alone, half-submerged under warm water scented with some flowers he doesn’t know. In the process of getting his bath, Ryouta had sure to draw on the fear of the servants as much as possible. Though his spite is usually easily earned enough, this time, Aomine deserves it and he fully hopes this will get back to the asshole somehow, to prove Ryouta is _not_ the loser between them, though rationally, he knows the servants are far too meek and above tattling. At first the warm water helps him relax his muscles, but alone to his thoughts, Ryouta’s mind slips back into reviewing his encounter with the Asshole, and he is getting out of the bath to express his ire in physical movement. After he redresses, he finds the new set of guards awaiting outside his assigned chambers, ready to escort him.

 _Tch_ , Aomine giving servants orders to tend to him, Aomine sending for different guards—these are trivial actions that Aomine does, either because of his appearance as a prince of Touou, or just takes pleasure irking Ryouta by shoving things at him he doesn’t want, but _can’t_ refuse. Or both, Aomine is an absolute asshole like that. The only thing Ryouta discounts is Aomine being so blindly ignorant he believes Ryouta will actually appreciate his actions; neither of them are that dumb. In reality, Ryouta thinks two things. One, they are pointless and unbeneficial to Ryouta, except perhaps they paint him weaker than he really is as to reassure Touou citizens, as well as paint a more courteous picture of the prince to his people; for another, Ryouta doesn’t need anything from Aomine, from _Touou._

The halls are long and narrow to maximize space of rooms the many doors link too and in the silence between him and the guards, their footsteps are clear, little thuds and their armor-weighted movement equalizes in quiet, metallic _clink_ s. Though this set isn’t outwardly hostile, Ryouta can sense their obvious distrust. As he walks in front of them, he pictures their suspicious expressions, listens to their footsteps, wary and therefore light, expecting an attack from him.

 _Pff, as if they could hold their lives against me—_ and Ryouta is back to how pointless this “guard” is. At least the old group was interesting; The memory of smiling under the soldiers’ accusations, laughing under insults followed by blows flows back to him in small waves. Aomine’s interference had simply been arrogant, period. In fact, the most hilarious thing Ryouta has ever had the pleasure of knowing, is just _how_ arrogant Touou can be, and how well they can deny it. The guards blaming Kaijo for bloodshed don't seem to remember staining their own hands equally red with the lives of Ryouta's people.They don't seem to understand that when Kaijo is attacked, Kaijo will _fight back_. They don't seem to recall it takes two parties to war, or the damn fact  _they initiated it._

Touou is just that ridiculously insolent. Aomine's interference had demonstrated he stands at the head of their audacious kingdom with _pride._  Ryouta doesn't even grind his teeth anymore; the rage flows far deeper, far stronger, through his blood.

“Oi, baka, _think you could stomp a little louder?”_

Just the first couple of words make Ryouta’s shoulders relax involuntarily. It’s because of how comfortable he is with the insult’s owner, his guard is coaxed into lowering, albeit just an itty bit. He walks faster, turning the last bend of gray stone ground matched by barren walls and pushing the door open rather than waiting for his guard to find one spectacularly unimpressed brother in the sad little room with the general level of aesthetic Ryouta has attributed to the rest of this damn kingdom. And unfortunately, both are becoming more familiar to the Kises. Sitting at the wooden table in the center, surrounded by a loose circle of stoic guards, Yukio arches a brow at Ryouta. “No, don’t stop on my behalf! Let’s get that ceiling down here!" Like Ryouta, he's dressed in a silk tunic in Kaijo's blue atop a darker woolen layer but unlike Ryouta, Yukio also has a cloak, midnight blue, trimmed with bronze lace and pinned on either side of his collarbone. 

“Onii-chan!“ Ryouta complains, contrary to the little spark of relief he feels seeing Yukio is in perfect health, though Yukio's raised brow makes Ryouta aware the bruise on his face will need to be explained. “I think that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.” 

“Not particularly." Yukio rolls up the longest of the three scrolls splayed across the table before handing it to the herald standing by his side. As he does so, Ryouta makes the best of the other's misdirection and easily slides the little piece of parchment Yukio has left underneath another scroll off the table to pocket, under his own guise of reading the official message. He'll respond when he can. The herald is older than Ryouta is used to seeing, but he's also dressed in somewhat colorful robes; both symbolize his vague royal court official position. And as part of the latter's duties, when Ryouta sits across Yukio, he dips his head to them, brief, before speaking. “Your Royal Highnesses, Prince Yukio and Prince Ryouta of the Kise family of Kaijo, as part of Touou's current mandates, I will serve witness to all conversation that commences. Please proceed." 

Ryouta's never liked orders, but this one time, it's okay, easy to ignore, easy to pick up again from, “Um, _yes_ , particularly. I think you just know me a little too well.” He smiles widely. “Yucchi! My big brother, the best one in the whole world!”

“Ew, gross,” Yukio crunches up his nose, and then they both laugh quietly at his feigned disgust. “Anyways, what’s got you all riled up?”

Ryouta pauses. " _Gee_ ," he says dryly. "Sure couldn't be all of this, huh?"

"Stop playing dumb," Kasamatsu reaches over, flicking him in the nose. It's this, the little things in the little moments where Yukio's not the responsible, reliable, serious Heir to the Throne of Kaijo, and just Yukio; just his older brother, that makes Ryouta love him most. He continues, voice still a little gravelly, but affectionate as well, "Like you said, I know you pretty darn well, fool."

Said _fool_  grins back, saccharine sweet. “It doesn’t matter. But you know what does-"

"Ryouta, you know I'd tell you important news immediately." The other sighs. "There are no new improvements on the negotiation. Father’s council is still trying but Kobori sent word we’ll be looking at a half a month at the least.”

 _Fuck that._ It's already been a week. Ryouta sneers, and it's dark but for one, Yukio's _almost_ completely impervious; for another, it sets a level of wariness in the faces of the otherwise stoic guards; and finally, for him, it feels good. “We’re still prisoners.” 

A small nod, a brief flick of his gaze to the guards around them. The guards who are supposedly, guarding them from any potential harm that could come to the Kaijians while they rest in a formerly-enemy kingdom, and now...well, some might say stalemate, but Ryouta has visited soldiers when they weren't fighters, but farmers on their own land; he knows bullshit when he sees it, and apparently that's all Touou wants to offer. The crap about the negotiations requiring more time and the lines Aomine had given his men are more prime examples.  _Guests?_   No, he and Yukio aren't under Touou protection, they are under Touou's _mercy_. Hostages.

His lip curls; he imagines it reveals grit teeth. “Wonderful.”

The other hums, and because he is Yukio, he says, “Since you're in such a wonderful mood, I’m assuming you encountered Touou Royals?”

Because he is Yukio, of course he speculates accurately.

At Ryouta's insistence, the grin comes, and it loses most traces of Ryouta's displeasure in a matter of seconds. Ryouta becomes airy, haughty. "Oh yes, Prince Daiki is simply lovely. More dashing and charming than ever! _Soooooo_ chivalrous, I'm sure he'll make your day the way he made mine."

Yukiko chuckles. "So what exactly did he do?"

Ryouta's eyes meet the herald's, smiling sweetly. "Stuck his ugly, presumptuous nose where it didn't belong."

A couple of the guards react with flaring noses, shifting towards them; Yukio groans, " _Ryoutaaa,_ " while he grins back. It's not like he's said anything untrue.

An officer snaps, "Insulting the Aomine house is a act of treachery in Touou. You should be put on trial and then-"

"I should laugh my ass off," Ryouta says smoothly. "Because if you'll have Koushiro-san explain it to you, I'm not a citizen of Touou. I'm a representative of Kaijo. As any of the Aomine family would let you know themselves,  _I am their guest._ Have them hear of this." He smirks now, because  _man this is fun._ "You can all be  _my_ guest."

The guards quick to defend their royals now look outraged but are rightfully unwilling to dispute, while the others-the wiser guards simply roll their eyes at him as if he is an immature nuisance of a child. Ryouta doesn't care, he just needs them to recognize _he'_ s always the winner; it doesn't matter whose turf he's on.

Koushiro sighs but he doesn't seem to displeased- perhaps he's had his own bad run-ins with the youngest of the Aomines? Ryouta's delighted with the thought. The herald says, "Fortunately, for your own sake, your Highness, you are correct. Sufficiently knowledgeable, slightly cheeky, but ultimately correct."

Ryouta dips his head with a grin. "Thank you, I pride myself in both aspects."

He's sure Koushiro's lips quirk up, he's _sure_. At any rate, Yukio cuffs him and apologizes to Koushiro, he whines, and discloses no more of the rest of Aomine's behavior because none on the impassioned soldiers need to think any higher of their stupid leader. Additionally, after he reads Yukio's message, he can include points of his dispute with Aomine' in his reply note before giving that to his brother during the afternoon visit. Equally aware, Yukio lets Ryouta seemingly sway him into small talk, with most of it made as they walk around the local garden as part of their limited privileges. Of course, the time allotted here is still time under surveillance- Koushiro's shift ends a little later though the guards won't switch then as well.  _Shame,_ for Ryouta's plans.

The garden is...okay. There are vibrant flowers under warm sunshine, abundant fruit born by little plants, and a koi pond- _less pond and more lake-_ so of course, Ryouta likes the place better than the tiny room they're forced to begin their meets in. But the invitation to ' _explore and enjoy'_ the garden, ' _a hopeful, tentative gesture at friendship_ ', he remembers hearing this from some smirking douche, is another pretense of Touou, another aggravating insult to Ryouta. So, eventually, he just wants to get back to his own room as quick as he can to answer Yukio's message but-

"Ah, Prince Yukio, Prince Ryouta!"

They pause their mindless strolling to turn. Their guards are first to kneel on the soft, springy grass, fast to lower their heads, still their bodies; Ryouta reluctantly finds their discipline is satisfactory. But maybe, their efforts in particular has something to do with the actual royal at hand.

Alongside Koushiro, Yukio bows. "Princess Satsuki."

She offers him a tentative smile. "Please, none of that- Yu-Prince Yukio."

Ryouta still has trouble accepting that the beautiful, attractive person standing in front of him is grown-up Satsukicchi, the smart little girl with the pink ponytail with big dreams and a bigger smile, the girl who'd make up and play silly games with Ryouta at the inter-kingdom meetings their parents would bring them along to. Because Ryouta's only caught a few glimpses of her through the week, with today's earlier interaction deserving to be discounted considering how distracted he was with her brother, he hadn't really registered everything. But now, he sees a young _woman_ with fair skin, a nice figure, hair still the color of Sakura and eyes just as pretty.

Ryouta blinks. Satsuki is _gorgeous_.

"Guards, Koushiro-san, please rise as well." She notices Ryouta's staring and turn to angle her smile at him now. It's still full of uncertainty, as hopeful as it is afraid of his rejection. Ryouta is glad, because he's not immediately sure quite how to react either, and actually is glad when Yukio just takes over. "How can we be of assistance, princess?" He says fluently.

On one hand, Ryouta feels discontent stirring. Though Satsuki may be innocent herself, she is still a part of the family who so willingly engaged Kaijo, lusting for war.  He hates that Yukio's words almost convey they are below Satsuki and therefore, as if they are hers to command; on the other, it may just be a peace measure, meant to be taken at face. In general, it's unusual, because Ryouta recalls Yukio used to tag along with them with the hopes of keeping them in line. Needless to say, he failed miserably. Or not miserably, depending on perspective- for Ryouta, memories of Yukio's high-pitched giggles float over his head like friendly bubbles.

Satsuki smiles her gratefulness. "Actually, I was hoping to bother Prince Ryouta. To apologize on my brother's behalf."

Ryouta doesn't deny indulging in a smug smirk; the expressions of some of the guards who had been so defensive of their prince are absolutely hysterical. "Join us in our walk, princess?"

She dips her head. "I'd be honored."

 

Unlike some bastards Ryouta could name, Satsuki is polite, respectful, rightfully conscious of herself, as  _Satsuki,_  considerate to her kingdom, conscious of being Touou, a royal, an  _Aomine_. 

Before they resume gliding around the garden once more, Satsuki orders the guards assigned to the Kaijian princes now move to spread themselves around the perimeters of the garden and suggests Koushiro take a break. Ryouta and Yukio exchange looks of surprise with the gesture, but Satsuki is already moved on, to "Prince Ryouta, I was serious by the way, I'm sorry for Daiki's childish behavior." Satsuki is tactful, Satsuki does  _not_ say, "You know how Daiki is, you know how he can get." because Ryouta wouldn't know.

Because Satsuki already knows the details anyways and there is no other Touou listening in, when Yukio prompts Ryouta, he sighs, "Okay, it's actually not as bad as- as Princess Satsuki made it to be-"

"But you did get into a fight with him?"

Yukio frowns, the one that he knows means,  _Ryouta, really?_

But before Ryouta can reply, Satsuki hurriedly amends, "Sorry, I didn't- I didn't meant to implicate- I've spoken to Daiki and he said- well actually, _what_ he said allowed me to deduce he must of provoked you in some way or attacked you first, and then you just defended yourself."

Ryouta can't help smile once again, the passion in her proclamation is cute, and not unwanted. "Aren't those mutually exclusive, Princess? Physically attacking or insulting verbally?" After all, on a very thin technical note Ryouta doesn't like but finds is buried in his mind anyways, is, he and Daiki, both technically did both. Each. Ah well, he'll clear it up with Yukio later.

Satsuki actually pouts, and damn, this is actually  _adorable_. "I'm trying to help you, you dolt!" she says this naturally, then freezes for a second, because they can't just banter like friends- she and him- they're  _enemies_ , no matter what Touou is trying to get them to pretend to be. "Uh," her gaze shifts to Yukio, then the grass in front of their paths, the rectangular flowerbed of violets they thread past. "Well, anyways, I'd like to make up for my brother. A favor, within my power."

Ryouta glances at Yukio. Though they have received similar training, Yukio is the crown prince after all.

"Thank you for your offer," He nods. "Perhaps we could discuss and use it another day?"

Oh. Ryouta's suddenly glad Yukio is the crown prince.

"Understandable." Satsuki tilts her head, and though she'd been the one to approach she says, "I suppose...that's all for today? Perhaps I'll see both of you soon?"

Ryouta doesn't want to make any promises- who knows where things will go from here?

But he won't deny it has been nice to have a person in Touou less enemy and more...acquaintance. 

So he just says "Hopefully," with a tiny smile, Yukio murmuring agreement. 

Satsuki nods, leaves with her small force of servants and guards, and Koushiro returns to stick close to the Kises.

Because the princes then dive into a different conversation, neither them nor Koushiro notices the guard trailing at the very back suddenly veers into Satsuki's force.

* * *

In his room, on his bed, Daiki listens to what is mostly silence. But bits of sounds here and there, when servants hurry down the halls, when officials speak, voices muffled by the walls.

He rolls back over onto his stomach, and though his mattress is pretty stiff, the surface still sinks slightly around his face. He's isn't sure what this mood is, but it certainly is a  _mood_. An emotion he can't name wants to be expressed, but he's just not sure how. Training just makes him tired and more irritable, eating is boring when everything taste bland, and sleeping is impossible because his mind is just  _running._

The door creaks open.

"Shuu," he mumbles.

"Tch, your dumb door is too loud." The other tells him, footsteps just barely audible. Daiki rolls back onto his side to see Shuuzou bending over, slipping out of his guard outfit's pants, before straightening, folding them expertly.

"You didn't knock, of course I'd know it was you." Daiki says as Shuuzou walks over to his own bed and kneels to store it as well as the top layers under. "Who else would it have been?"

"Satsuki-"

"Satsuki always starts talking before she pushes the door open."

Shuuzou tilts his head to the side, laughs a little before flouncing onto his own bed. "Speaking of her, she had a run-in with Kise. Or rather, Kises."

Daiki cracks the kinks out of his neck. "Report properly, you douche."

"Well that's not very nice." Shuuzou observes, after a pause, because even if he's a great friend, a superior warrior, a smart spy, he's also the world's biggest Smartass. "I think you hurt my feelings. I would like an apology."

Daiki lazily flips him off. "How's that?"

Shuuzou smirks his smirk, the one he's flashed on days he's feeling nice and confident to noble ladies along the sidelines of wherever he passes through."This if what I get for two decades of friendship? That all I mean to you, Daiki?"

Daiki presses the finger to his lips before gesturing towards Shuuzou. "Take my love or leave it."

Shuuzou chuckles. "Alright, alright. Kises, Ryouta, and Yukio, met together normally, witness was Izumi Koushiro, knows who I am but ignored me, probably aware of your orders?"

Affirmation by a nod. Shuuzou continues, "Yukio's gotten three scrolls, no changes between Kaijo and Touou officially as of yet, I missed the other two. Satsuki intercepted them. Said something about a fight between you and Ryouta, apologized for your behavior, promised a favor-"

He finally sits up, demanding, "Are you serious?"

"Hmm?"

"He started it!"

"Not according to Satsuki, she said the way you phrased things caused her to identify fault in you."

Daiki cusses, Shuuzou laughs a little more. "You did start it, didn't you?"

"No, you dumbass." Daiki growls, before going on to explain the  _real_ scenario.

Shuuzou's glee fades away pretty fast, because thank the gods, he's on Daiki's side, the way he's pretty much always been. "I don't know Daiki, you should respect how he feels about Touou- we have him here, _imprisoned,_ you know? I'd have to agree with Satsuki; you were an ass."

Never mind, curse the gods; Shuuzou's delusional.

He gets to his feet. "I can't believe you! You know what he and his bastard kingdom did-"

"Your loyalty to the kingdom makes you biased, Daiki." Shuuzou gets to his as well. Though Shuuzou is slightly older, they've been around the same heights for most of their lives, except their individual growth spurts as teenagers. Now, he meets Daiki's gaze, evenly and resilient. "Please, think about respecting Ryouta's feelings."

Memories flare in Daiki painfully and he angrily snaps, "Watch your tongue,  _Nijimura._ " He doesn't say,  _you're speaking to the second prince of Touou,_ or,  _you better make sure your loyalty hasn't strayed_ , because what he's said is bad enough-

Shuuzou gets up, face expressionless. "Yes, Your Highness." The steps he takes to stalk out of the room are quiet.

Daiki is left to experience his mood alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS FOR @fluffyInsanity who provides the shoulder support you always want because you know you need it <3 You helped me finish this chapter! Usually I refuse to write so much because lazy but :P
> 
> Thank you to all those commentors, you made my day! <3 Lyra darling, thank you for your offers your encouragement has been wonderful, Yetti, I finally got it done!

**Author's Note:**

> For my gem who answered my I Hate You Prompts Request <3.  
> Love, I would pull a Guren for you.  
> Thank you for your constant everything.


End file.
